


Contact High

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek Reboot
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals





	1. Chapter 1

_**Contact High (A Star Trek XI Fic) - Part 1**_  
Title: **Contact High**  
 _(Part 1/2, Complete)_  
Author: [](http://therumjournals.livejournal.com/profile)[**therumjournals**](http://therumjournals.livejournal.com/)  
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot  
Word Count: 14,400  
Pairing: Kirk/Spock  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Drug use  
Description: Spock finds Jim Kirk in a cloud of smoke, and Jim discovers the entertainment value of a stoned Vulcan.  
A/N: Inspired by the song Day N Nite by Kid Cudi: [Listen](http://popup.lala.com/popup/4828140280441472094)  
Many thanks to beta [](http://gwenaterra.livejournal.com/profile)[**gwenaterra**](http://gwenaterra.livejournal.com/)

  
Spock glanced idly over the Life Support system logs, his eyes coming to rest on the records for Deck 6. An indicator light blinked next to the Captain’s quarters. He pulled up the record. The fire detection system had been disabled, as had the atmospheric controls. “Computer, locate the Captain.”

“The Captain is in his quarters.”

“Commander Spock to Captain Kirk.”

There was no response. Spock left his station and entered the turbolift, jumping off at Deck 6 and practically running to the Captain’s quarters. He buzzed for entry. No response. Glancing down the hall, he quickly entered an override code. The door swished open and Spock stepped inside, directly into a cloud of strange smelling smoke. His eyes stung and he squinted as he saw the captain moving towards him.

Kirk pushed him roughly toward the door. “Spock, get the fuck out, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Captain, is there a fire?”

“No, there’s no goddamn fire, now get out of here.”

“Captain, I am concerned…” he trailed off as the door slid closed in front of him, leaving him in the corridor, still smelling faintly of smoke. That had been a…very odd experience, Spock thought, as he turned to walk down the hall to his quarters. He looked down as he walked, idly pondering how interesting it was that when he put one foot in front of the other, the motion created was sufficient to carry his body forward a few feet. Repeating the process had the same affect. Fascinating. He trailed his fingers along the wall. It was cool to the touch, something he’d never really noticed before. He stopped, pressing his palms to the wall, then his cheek. An ensign passing in the hall gave him an odd look, and he stood back abruptly, picturing how strange he must have appeared just then. He made it the rest of the way to his quarters with no further incidents.

He had planned to spend a few hours of his free time meditating, but as he entered his room a wave of dizziness washed over him and he lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could probably meditate from here, he decided. He already felt quite calm. He attempted to find a point of focus as he usually did before beginning meditation, but his mind seemed to wander aimlessly from point to point. He thought of the day’s events, of Nyota, of the captain glaring at him, bright eyes shining through a haze of smoke. The captain had looked quite angry, but his anger somehow seemed to make him appear more attractive. Now, that was illogical, Spock thought. Shouldn’t the goal of anger be to scare and intimidate the antagonist? Not to make them want to give you a hug. Spock imagined wrapping the angry captain in a big bear hug. He pictured the shock that would certainly appear on Kirk’s face, and smiled at the image. Wait, what? He sat up abruptly, walked quickly through the room that seemed to spin around him until he was in front of the mirror. He looked at himself. Indeed that did appear to be a smile on his face. How strange. He tried to un-smile, turning the corners of his mouth downward. He pushed out his bottom lip a little. Hmm. That looked like what Dr. McCoy always called a “pout” when the Captain did it. He inhaled through his nose and blew air into his cheeks, puffing them out. The sight was so strange that he let out a little laugh. He clapped a hand over his mouth. What was going on here? He decided the most logical course of action would be to attempt meditation again, to see if he could regain his focus and attempt to determine why he was acting so strangely. Yes, he would try the meditation again, this time in his meditation corner. After he just took a quick rest on the bed. After he lay down on the bed for a minute. After he took a little nap.

***

Spock approached Captain Kirk as he sat alone at a table in the mess hall.

“May I speak with you for a moment, Captain?”

“Sure, Spock,” Kirk sighed. He had kind of suspected he’d be facing an interrogation after Spock’s little visit the night before.

“Captain, after I left your room last night, I…began behaving strangely.”

“More strangely than usual?”

“Indeed. I…I exhibited a facial expression that-“

“Whoa, stop right there. You what?!”

“I…I smiled.”

Kirk stared at him, a grin playing about his lips.

"I believe I had a reaction to a smoky substance that I encountered -"

"SHH! Spock!" The captain somehow managed to yell at him while whispering. "Sit down."

"But I've already eat-"

"Spock. Sit. Down."

Spock sat down. Kirk looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Spock. Any chance you, uh, might want to try it again?"

"I am afraid I do not understand, Captain."

"I mean, do you want to try...having a reaction...to that smoky substance again?"

"I confess to being curious to see if it is possible to recreate the effects."

"Right. Okay. Come by my quarters tonight after your shift."

Spock nodded and moved to stand.

"Spock. Do not tell Dr. McCoy."

"Why would I...?"

"I have no idea. Just...don't."

"Very well."

***

"Computer, adjust Captain’s Quarters settings to the following: Fire Detection System off, Atmospheric Monitor off, lock door-“ he looked pointedly at Spock “-Captain’s override only.” The computer complied. “Oh, and lights at 60 percent.” The room dimmed. Spock watched the captain curiously as he grabbed an armful of pillows and stacked them against the side of the bed. “The key,” he said to Spock, as he grabbed a blanket and arranged it on the floor, “is to recreate the correct environment – specifically, my mom’s basement. Starfleet hasn’t really caught on to the importance of a comfy couch.” Kirk grabbed a few things out of the cabinet at his bedside and sat down against the edge of the bed, wiggling in amongst the pillows until he was comfortable. He looked at Spock expectantly and patted the blanket beside him. “Come on, Spock. What are you gonna do, smoke standing up with your hands behind your back?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but gently set himself down on the blanket next to Jim. He watched with interest as Jim produced a small pipe and as he proceeded to pack it with what appeared to be a leafy green substance.

"Captain, please enlighten me as to the type of substance we will be inhaling."

"It's a plant, Spock. It's called marijuana." He glanced nervously around and dropped his voice.  
"Also known as pot. Also known as weed. Also known as illegal, banned from Starfleet, and really fucking bad news if anyone finds out I have this, so keep your trap shut, okay?"

"My trap?"

"Just, don't tell anyone, okay?" He looked at Spock. "Look, are you sure you want to do this? It's against regulations and everything. I thought you weren't really into that."

"You have given me to believe that there will be no negative consequences if no one else is made aware of this."

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do it."

He lit the pipe and inhaled deeply, his eyes widening as he held his breath. Spock observed him closely. Finally, Kirk exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping his lungs, swirling around them both. "Breathe in, Spock." Spock quirked an eyebrow at him, but nonetheless took a measured breath, then released it. He looked curiously at the pipe in Kirk's hand. Kirk followed his eyes. "I don't think so, Spock. Not if you got high off walking into a cloud of smoke last night. Plus, we don't really know how a Vulcan will react to pot, so let's take it easy, see how you feel after a couple second-hand hits."

Spock felt great. He relaxed his stiff upright posture, letting his head fall back onto the arrangement of pillows that Jim had so considerately provided. Jim stared at him, a smile at the edge of his lips.

"Feels good, right?" he asked. "Feel like smiling yet?"

"Not yet," Spock responded seriously.

Jim took it as a challenge and lit up the pipe again, holding the flame over the bowl as he pulled smoke into his lungs, his cheeks turning pink with the effort. He pulled the pipe away and leaned into Spock's space, letting the smoke out slowly as Spock closed his eyes and inhaled. Jim stared at him, not moving back, waiting, until Spock could practically feel Jim's eyes boring into him.

Spock spoke without opening his eyes. "Captain, might I request that you please stop staring at my mouth."

Had he been doing that? Shit, yeah, he had, but only because he was watching for that smile. Jim sat back a little, but didn't really stop staring. He didn't want to miss it, after all. "Come on, Spock. Smile."

"Usually a smile is proceeded by something pleasing or humorous."

"What, being here with me isn't pleasing enough?"

Being here with the captain was, in fact, terrifying, if Spock were to admit it to himself which, strangely enough, he found that he did. He began to consider why exactly that would be, when Jim interrupted his thoughts with what sounded suspiciously like a quack. Jim was holding up a hand, his fingers together and his thumb pressed against them in what he supposed some Earth inhabitants might interpret to look like a duck. Jim moved his hand and talked out of the side of his mouth.

"Hi Spock, I'm a duck. Quack quack. Space Duck, boldly going where no ducks have gone before!" He wiggled his hand around and made more quacking sounds.

"I am sorry, Captain, but that is not the slightest bit amusing."

"Oh yeah? Then why do you have a huge grin plastered to your face right now?"

Spock was shocked to find that Kirk was right, that he was actually smiling, and apparently for no logical reason, either, if there ever were to be a logical reason for smiling.

Jim grinned back. He couldn’t believe Spock was sitting here in front of him, smiling (though he was not surprised that the duck thing had worked – Space Duck was always a winner). The possibilities presented by the combination of Spock and weed were so overwhelming that he almost didn’t know where to begin. He frowned at the pipe – only enough for one more hit. He wondered if Spock would ever be interested in trying this again, or if this would satiate his curiosity.

“Alright Spock, one more and then we’re done for the night.”

Spock let a look of disappointment cross his face. “Do you do this every night, Captain?”

Jim shook his head as he took the last hit, coughing toward the end, but still managing to blow a thin stream of smoke in Spock’s direction. “Call me Jim, Spock, Jesus,” he said, coughing. “And no, I don’t smoke every night. Just when the energy gets to me, ya know?” At Spock’s questioning look, he continued. “I have this energy, like this adrenaline, flowing through me all the time, which is awesome for, ya know, captaining and studying and hacking rigged computer simulations,” he said, winking, “but not great for sleeping. Sometimes I need to calm down and make my heart stop racing and my brain stop running a mile a minute.” He gestured toward the cabinet and the pipe and the pillows. “This helps.”

Spock was quiet for a moment, his face serious again. “I am sorry if I have interrupted your routine.”

“No, no, Spock, this is awesome, I mean, it’s crazy, I never in a million years would have imagined smoking pot with you, but it’s actually pretty nice to have someone to talk to. You’re a very calming presence, Spock. For the most part. Unless, you know, you’re strangling me.”

The corners of Spock’s mouth turned down.

“No, Spock, come on, don’t be sad, I’m over it, and anyway you know it was my fault. Shit man, come on, I like happy Spock!”

“I will endeavor to remain cheerful in your presence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jim looked carefully at Spock. “You okay to get home?”

“I believe I can return to my quarters without incident, if that is what you are asking.”

“Okay, great. Go get some sleep, Spock. It’s been fun.” He yawned and climbed onto bare mattress, snuggling into it like it was the softest thing in the world. “Night, Spocky,” he said sleepily. Spock shook his head, but didn’t say anything as he turned and headed out the door.

***

Two nights later, Jim was at his desk when the door chimed.

“Enter.”

Spock came in, standing stiffly as the door swished shut behind him.

“Spock, what’s up?”

Spock didn’t say anything, but a series of expressions seemed to pass behind his eyes as he thought about how to phrase his question.

Jim’s mouth quirked up in a smile, yet he still managed to look serious as he asked, “You want to smoke again, don’t you?” His voice had a mocking quality, but his eyes shone with sincerity.

Spock took a deep breath and nodded. “I…had considered it.”

“Yeah, well, you did more than consider it if you made it all the way to my quarters. What were you going to do, stand there staring at me for a minute and then leave?”

“I had considered it.”

Jim laughed and looked at the clock. “Alright, well, I’ve had about enough paperwork for the night anyway, so let’s do this.”

Spock exhaled, relaxing visibly.

“Wow, Spock, you’re really hard up for this, aren’t you? I don’t know, I don’t want to be responsible for getting you addicted or anything.”

“I was merely anticipating your response,” Spock said, and Jim thought he detected a little defensiveness in Spock’s tone. Spock remained standing as Jim prepped the room, but needed no further prodding to take a seat once Jim had flopped down on the makeshift couch, pipe in hand.  
“Jim, may I ask you a question?”

Jim held up a hand. “One sec.” He held the flame over the packed weed and inhaled. When he breathed out a few seconds later, Spock was already leaning forward to catch the smoke with a deep breath. Jim couldn’t help but grin at his eagerness.

“Okay. You can ask me a question now.”

“Do the effects of marijuana on humans include a heightened sensitivity to touch?”

“That’s your question? I thought for sure you would have researched the shit out of pot over the last two days.”

“I thought it prudent to avoid using official Starfleet resources to ascertain the effects of illegal substances.”

“Yeah, alright, good point. Very…prudent of you. But anyway, in answer to your question, yeah, definitely. I once spent like twenty minutes rubbing a blanket against my face. And sex while high is amazing.” He hadn’t meant to go into that much detail, but Spock didn’t seem too shaken by the revelation. “Here, check it out.”

He took another hit of the weed, but didn’t hold it too long so he could blow a considerable cloud of smoke in Spock’s direction. Spock inhaled and already his mouth was turning up on one side, a lopsided half-smile that Jim found adorable.

“Okay, now close your eyes.” Spock complied, and Jim reached hesitantly toward him, then ran his index finger over the tip of Spock’s ear. Spock inhaled sharply, twitched, and made a breathy sound like “Ahh-ahh-ahhhh-ahhhhh” and pulled away. Jim dropped his hand and looked concerned. “Good ahh, or bad ahh?”

Spock was flushed, panting, and propping himself up with one arm to keep from slumping to the floor as the sensations traveled through his body like a shockwave, sweeping through his extremities, speeding his heart rate, and settling rather unexpectedly in his groin. He swallowed back a groan, tipped his head back, and ground out, “Good ahh.”

Jim smiled, relieved, and reached out for Spock’s ear again, but was stopped abruptly as Spock’s hand shot out to grip his wrist. “Jim, I think that’s enough. For now,” he felt compelled to add.

Jim frowned a little but backed off. “Okay. No more sensations. For now.”

***

Jim had debated all day whether or not he should do what he was about to do, and he continued to debate for another few minutes as he stood in the corridor staring at Spock’s door. He had just made up his mind when the door slid open and Uhura walked out. Jim backed away from the door and Uhura shot him an annoyed glare as she went past. He watched her for a second, then turned back to see Spock standing stiffly in the middle of the room. He entered, and waited for the door to close behind him. He felt out of place, nervous, as he looked at Spock, trying to decide what to say.  
“Hey Spock. Sorry if I, um, interrupted something. I was just coming by to see if maybe you wanted… I mean, to let you know, that I was thinking about…”

“Yes.” Spock nodded curtly and walked past Jim toward the door. Jim felt his shoulders relax and he smiled and spun on his heel to follow Spock down the hall to the captain’s quarters.

They were three hits in and Spock hadn’t even cracked a smile yet. Jim was about to comment on it, when Spock suddenly looked at him and said “Jim, I have a confession.”

“A confession! Awesome! Confessions are, like, the best part of drugs!” He turned to face Spock, sitting cross-legged and looking entirely too eager for Spock’s liking.

Spock looked to the side, avoiding eye-contact. “I have been having… difficulty sleeping these past few nights.”

“That’s a boring confession, Spock,” Jim said warningly.

“My confession is that I have been hoping to engage in…” he nodded toward the pipe.

“Smoking pot?” Jim supplied helpfully.

“In smoking pot, again. Like you, I have found smoking pot to be helpful in calming my mind so that I may attain a restful sleep. In fact, I feel that it may the most effective remedy I have discovered thus far.”

“What, really? What about, like, meditating and stuff?”

“I have found meditation frustrating as of late. The effects of the marijuana serve to free my mind from the limitations that I normally impose upon it, but without the detrimental intensity of the emotional response that would normally accompany the lifting of those barriers. When I meditate, I seek to suppress those same emotions that I… enjoy indulging in here. Vulcan meditation requires that one focus on the desire to be free from emotion, but…”

“But if you don’t want to be free of it, you can’t convince your brain that you do?”

“Something like that, yes. During the day I am able to remain fully in control, and have had no difficulty relying on logic to guide my actions. But at night…”

“At night your wild side comes out?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you want it to.”

Spock paused. “I do not know.”

“Alright, well, try it! Come on… do something illogical!”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but shifted to his knees as though he were about to stand. Jim watched expectantly, wondering what Spock would do, figuring he would probably put his left shoe on his right foot, or something equally mundane. What he did not expect was for Spock to lean forward and press his lips against Jim’s in a hot, dry kiss that lasted for seconds, only, before Spock pulled back and Jim tried to remember how to breathe.

Jim felt the weed hit him and he thought Spock probably wouldn’t appreciate it if he laughed out loud right then, so instead he just stared at him for a moment while he tried to figure out what to say. He decided on the particularly eloquent, “Fuck, Spock,” followed by more staring.

Spock sat back, looking pleased with himself. When Jim finally regained his composure, he gave a short laugh and said, “We just won’t tell Uhura about that, then.”

Spock’s satisfied smirk disappeared and he looked away. “Lieutenant Uhura has requested that we discontinue our relationship.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Spock! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did not wish to dwell upon it.”

“Is that what… oh God, Spock, is that what I walked in on tonight?”

“Our discussion had concluded, but yes.”

A flash of anger twisted Jim’s features. “What the hell is wrong with her?” he said, more to himself than Spock. To Spock, he said, “I thought she was really into you.”

“Apparently, the feelings that she had for me have shifted from a desire for intimacy and exclusivity to a preference for friendship and a professional working relationship.”

Jim leaned back against the pillows, still in shock. “I’m sorry, man.” He looked at Spock and said, earnestly, “I’m sorry.”

Spock shook his head and stood. “I believe I shall return to my quarters.”

Jim nodded absently, lost in thought, but when Spock reached the door he called, “Hey Spock!”

Spock turned to look at him. “Do you, uh, do you wanna do this again tomorrow night? I mean, so you don’t have to be alone?”

Spock seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded. “That would be satisfactory.”

It wasn’t until long minutes after the door slid shut that Jim remembered to think about the kiss.

***

“Dude, dude, dude!” Jim was laying on his back amongst the pillows, laughing hysterically and trying to form sentences. He’d finished smoking twenty minutes ago but the effects were still going strong. “Dude, you know how sometimes…. on the Bridge…. Chekov, like, sits in his chair…” He interrupted his story with a fit of giggles, interspersed by attempts to catch his breath. “Ya know, he sits in his chair and, like, looks at Sulu and like sometimes… ha ha….sometimes, Sulu, like, looks back at him! Oh my god, oh my god,” and he laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks.

Spock looked on, a smile on his face, amused at Jim’s antics (although not at the story, of which he’d already heard three different variations that evening). Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he should be concerned at how Jim would suddenly handle some sort of emergency that required him to act more like a captain and less like a drunk five-year old. He was grateful that the cottony effect that pot had on his mind prevented him from being more concerned, because that probably would have interrupted the pleasant stupor that he found himself in.

Jim rolled over onto his elbows and looked up at Spock, frowning. “Spocky,” he began seriously, “You’re not laughing.”

“You seem to be laughing enough for the two of us,” Spock intoned.

Jim grinned. “You’re funny, Spock. Tell me something funny.”

“I would prefer not to.”

In fact, they’d been doing this for five nights in a row, and Spock had exhausted his supply of funny stories, which was pretty sad given the fact that Jim found just about everything that came out of Spock’s mouth hilarious when he was high. The story about Vulcan bonding rituals had been particularly well received, and Spock’s recitation of the recipe for plomeek soup had had Jim rolling around on the floor in hysterics for a good ten minutes.

“Fine,” Jim said, pouting. “I have a better idea anyway.” He scrambled to his knees and scooted closer. “Hey, Spock. Do something illogical.” He closed his eyes and pursed his lips a little bit, leaning forward. When no kiss was forthcoming he cracked one eye open. Spock was staring at him with an eyebrow raised. “Come on, Spock!”

“Jim, I merely kissed you in an attempt to determine to what extent the marijuana would allow me to overcome the boundaries of logic. That experiment has been successfully concluded. I have no further interest in kissing you.”

Jim squinted at him suspiciously. “I thought Vulcans didn’t lie.”

“We do not.”

“Damn,” Jim said, flopping back against the side of the bed. “Jim Kirk charm failure. That hurts.” He turned toward Spock with a mischievous look on his face and raised his hand, extending a finger to brush lightly against the tip of Spock’s ear. Caught off-guard, Spock’s uncontrolled reaction was to tilt his head back and moan, a surprisingly sexual sound that had Jim instantly hard. Spock twitched away from Jim’s hand, biting his lip as though he couldn’t quite believe he was capable of making such a sound. Jim followed Spock’s retreat with his hand, running the back of his knuckles lightly down Spock’s cheek and along his jaw. “You like how that feels, Spock. Bet you’ll like how a kiss feels even more.” Spock stilled, and Jim took the opportunity to grip his chin lightly, turning him until they were face to face. Spock didn’t resist, letting Jim pull him close, until their lips met. At the touch of Spock’s lips, Jim felt his world collapse in on itself, until all that remained was the heat of their open mouths, their tongues touching, tentatively at first, then sliding together, hard and eager. Jim’s cupped Spock’s cheek in his palm, holding him steady so he could press his tongue in farther, every sensation heightened, the rough texture of Spock’s tongue against his, the softness of his lips, the taste of smoke. All Jim could think about was exploring Spock’s mouth, about the press of their tongues, half battle and half dance, slow and lazy and intense. He felt like he was falling and he pulled away, tipping his head back to catch his breath, his mouth open, cheeks flushed. Spock observed him, something pulling at the back of his mind, and remembered that he had seen Jim Kirk like this one time before, his back pressed against a console on the Bridge, only then there had been defiance in his eyes and not the mixture of sweet mischief and surprise that he saw there now. Spock’s whole body tingled pleasantly and he felt himself smile in response. Jim echoed his smile, slowly, still breathing hard. “Fuck, Spock.” He lay back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. “Fuck. I love weed.”

Spock was inclined to agree. He really didn’t want to move, opting to sit as still as possible and let the lingering sensations of the kiss wash over him, the taste of Jim still in his mouth, the feel of Jim’s hand on his cheek, all of it magnified by the effects of the drug. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there before he realized that Jim had fallen asleep. He let his eyes wander over Jim’s body, watching the rise and fall of his chest, examining the lines of his muscles under his t-shirt, then flicking up to look at his full lips and the curve of his jaw. Spock tore his gaze away and stood to leave, pausing, then kneeling down to pull a blanket up over Jim’s figure before he headed out the door.

***

Spock paced in his quarters, his eyes darting to the clock, the bed, the door. He was having trouble making a decision, and logic wasn’t helping him at all. As of this morning, he had been determined that he would not go to Jim’s quarters tonight. After all, they’d been smoking together every night for almost a week now, and perhaps he should attempt to pursue other leisure activities. The past two nights he hadn’t even waited for Jim’s invitation, had just shown up, and though Jim had seemed happy to see him, had everything already set up, still he couldn’t help but think that he might be intruding on the captain’s personal time. At dinner time, he had still been determined not to go, and as he sat alone in the mess hall finishing his meal he had steadfastly reminded himself of the reasons why, and they had sounded convincing. But back in his quarters he was hit by the overwhelming desire not to be alone, the fear of a sleepless night, or of sleep disturbed by the dreams that had been pushed away by smoke and Jim. And then there was that kiss, that kiss, that tingling sensation, like nothing Spock had ever felt before, and to be honest, he kind of wanted to try it again. He stopped to lean against his desk, staring at the clock, pressing his palms onto the desktop in frustration. Then the comm beeped and he heard Jim’s voice saying “What the hell, Spock, are you coming over or what?” He was halfway down the hall when he realized he hadn’t even answered the captain, then he was at Jim’s door and Jim was opening it and saying “Wow, that was fast.”

Spock nodded and pushed past him, taking a seat against the pillows, his back straight but his forearms resting on his knees. It was strange. Jim had been observing Spock on the Bridge, and during the day he was as inscrutable as ever, his eyes, his face never betraying an emotion. At night, after a couple hits of weed, Spock was an open book, smiling, frowning, pouting, biting his lip with impatience or nervousness. But what Jim found most intriguing was the in-between time, before he lit up the pipe, when Spock’s control started to slip – or he started to let it slip, and Jim could discern through slight twitches of his hands and at the corner of his eyes how he was feeling – eager, antsy, frustrated. Like right now, he could practically see Spock’s impatience, imagining that if he were fully human, he’d be shaking his leg and giving Jim a look that said “well, get on with it!” Jim smiled and moved quickly to sit down next to Spock and grab the pipe and lighter. He took a hit, then turned to Spock, moved so close that Spock thought maybe he was going to kiss him again, and a jolt of electricity shot down his spine, but then Jim stopped an inch away from his lips and exhaled. Spock breathed in slowly, sucking in the smoke as it poured from between Jim’s lips, so close that only the smallest wisp escaped from between them. Spock held his breath for a moment, then breathed out, tipped his head back, and smiled. “That was quick,” Jim observed. He leaned back and they sat quietly as Jim took a few more pulls from the pipe, blowing the smoke lazily in Spock’s general direction. He set the pipe down and bit his lip, looking at Spock. Funny stories didn’t seem so appealing tonight, but the sight of Spock’s pale skin, his neck, his hands, seemed to call to him, begging to be touched. He took hold of one of Spock’s hands, turned so Spock’s palm was facing up, and ran a finger from the tip of Spock’s middle finger, down over his palm and over his wrist. Spock’s breath hitched and he shuddered slightly. It would have been bad enough to have Jim touch his hand like this on the Bridge (an image which in itself sent strange sensations traveling through Spock’s chest and stomach) but the effect of the weed increased the sensitivity of his already sensitive fingers tenfold, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out.

Then Jim pulled his hand away and Spock opened his eyes to see Jim looking at him seriously. “Take your shirt off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Spock, take your shirt off.”

“I do not think that would be appropriate.”

“Spock. You’re doing illegal drugs in the captain’s quarters and the other night, we made out. I think we’re well into inappropriate territory already.”

Spock wasn’t sure if Jim’s logic was truly sound, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt and pulled his shirt off, revealing his pale, muscular torso. Jim stood up and gestured to the bed. “Lie down. On your stomach.”

“Why, Jim?”

“You’ll see, come on, trust me!”

Spock looked dubious (an expression that didn’t change much with the weed, to be honest), but did as Jim said, stretching his long frame across the bed. Jim stared for a moment, then shook his head and remembered what he was doing. He reached into the drawer of the bedside cabinet and pulled out a vial of oil, then climbed onto the bed and positioned himself with his legs on either side of Spock’s hips, straddling him.

“Jim…”

“Shhh…wait.”

He opened the vial of oil and the smell of peppermint wafted out. He held the vial over the center of Spock’s back and poured a few drops of oil onto the smooth skin. Spock hadn’t known what to expect and the cool feeling of the oil on his skin came as a shock, a good shock, the sensations of cool air and slick liquid mixing on his skin and setting his nerves ablaze. Jim touched a finger gently to Spock’s back, ran it through the oil and traced a line down Spock’s spine, from his neck to just above his waistband. Spock squirmed underneath him, panting, reveling in the touch. Jim poured a few more drops of oil into his palm and rubbed his hands together. He placed his hands on Spock’s shoulders and squeezed. “This is called a back massage, Spock. When you’re sober, a backrub feels great. When you’re high, it feels like the most amazing thing you could ever imagine.”

Jim slid his hands down Spock’s back, pressing his fingers into muscle, kneading, massaging his way down. Spock was losing all sense of coherent thought, trying to understand what he was feeling, to which his mind provided confusing images and metaphors, like melting and molded clay and what he thought might be angels singing. His eyes were closed and he could feel his breaths deepening, his muscles relaxing, and he could think of nothing else besides Jim’s hands on his back, across his shoulder blades, sliding down his sides and along the top of his waistband. Spock wondered what it would feel like to have Jim’s hands move lower and he pressed up against Jim, a question that Jim answered with a laugh and a “like that, do you?” but nothing more. His hands slowed and he pushed them once more up Spock’s back and over his shoulders, then climbed off Spock to lie next to him.

“So…what did you think?”

Spock looked at him, breathing hard. “Jim. What have you done to me?”

“What do you mean? I just gave you the best backrub of your life!”

“I find myself unable to move.” He attempted to lift an arm, but could only get about two inches up before he had to set it back down again.

Jim grinned. “That’s because you’re floppy.”

“I am what?”

“You’re floppy. It’ s what happens after you get a backrub. You feel all floppy and you don’t wanna move. Does that sound accurate?”

Spock nodded his head against the pillow and they lay in silence for a moment.

“I would like to try giving you a backrub, Jim.”

“Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t stop you.”

“However, I feel that I may be unable to do so at this time.”

“That’s okay, Spock. I have a feeling I may see you back here tomorrow night.”

Spock sighed, thinking about his earlier conviction not to come. “I have a feeling you are correct.”

***

Jim swaggered into sickbay and hopped onto a biobed. He spread his arms out. “Okay, I’m ready!”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Jim, it’s not really time for your quarterly physical.”

“What? Really?”

“Really. I just said that to get you in here. DON’T even think about it,” he said, grabbing hold of Jim’s arm as he slid off the bed and headed for the door.

“Look, Jim,” Bones started in a low voice. “What is going on with you?”

Jim cocked an eyebrow at him. “Um…nothing?”

“Don’t lie to me, Jim. I’m looking at your eyes right now and they’re all bloodshot. And yesterday, you wore sunglasses to the Bridge.”

“Hey man, I looked cool!”

“Yeah, whatever. So just tell me what’s going on, okay? Are you sick? Are you stressed, having trouble sleeping? Just tell me Jim."

Jim bit his lip and glanced around sickbay. The fact was, he was kinda dying to tell someone about the “new Spock” that he’d been hanging out with on a nightly basis. He grabbed Bones by the arm and dragged him into the medical office, closing the door behind them. He leaned against the desk. “Okay, look, you have to swear not to say anything. And not to do anything.”

“Okay.”

“Swear.”

Bones really didn’t want to swear to those particular conditions when it came to Jim. But, he was also really curious. “Okay, I swear.”

“I may have picked up a little weed last time we were on Earth.”

“You may have… a little …WHAT? James Tiberius Kirk, are you out of your mind?! Do you know how many laws you're breaking? Do you know how much trouble you could get into?!”

“Bones, chill the fuck out, okay?” Jim said, his palms out in front of him in a calming gesture. “Whoa, Bones, seriously, your eyes are about to pop out of your head or something. Deep breaths. Need me to get a hypospray?”

Bones closed his eyes and put a hand on the wall, breathing deeply. Then he glared at Jim. “Jesus, Jim, what if…what if Spock finds out!”

Jim grinned. “See, that’s the thing Bones. Spock did find out.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Jim shook his head, still smiling. “Yeah, but listen to this. Not only did Spock find out…but Spock’s been smoking with me, like, every night for the past two weeks.”

Bones opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out, partly because he was trying to decide which to freak out about first, the fact that Spock had been smoking at all or the fact that the Captain of Starfleet’s flagship vessel had been getting high every single off-shift for the past two weeks. Or the fact that this activity had somehow escaped his considerable Chief Medical Officer observation skills. Eventually he just settled on breathing out a very weak, “What the fuck?”

“Bones.” Jim reached out and pulled him close, even though there was no way they could be overheard. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like to see Spock get high. He smiles.”

Bones pursed his lips together. He too looked around the room before stepping back and crossing his arms. “Alright. I want in.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t keep this kind of entertainment to yourself, Jim. Invite me over. Tonight.”

“Bones…you’re a doctor.”

“So? You’re a fucking Captain! Anyway, I won’t actually smoke. I just want to observe.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not completely kosher, Bones,” Jim said. “But okay, you can come over. My quarters tonight at 2230. Wait, make that 2300. That way I can get Spock loosened up a little bit so he doesn't, say, flip a shit when you come over.”

“2300? Jesus, Jim, do you ever sleep?”

“Not recently,” Jim said as he headed out the door. He turned at the last minute to add, “But trust me. It’s so worth it.”

***

The door buzzed promptly at 2300. “Computer, unlock door. Kirk authorization.” The door slid open and Bones walked in. Spock stiffened beside Jim. “It’s okay, Spock. I invited him.”

“Hey Spock! What’s up?” said Bones, talking as though Spock were a child, and possibly a slow child at that. Spock looked at him for a moment, then turned to Jim.

“Why?”

“I just thought, you know, he could hang out with us one night. It’s fine, he’s totally chill about the pot – right Bones?”

“Sure,” Bones said, taking a seat on the floor facing them. He stared intently at Spock for a moment.

“Captain,” Spock said out of the corner of his mouth. “Why is the doctor staring at me?”

“I may have…told him…about, you know…how you smile sometimes.”

“Jim, I am not here for Dr. McCoy’s entertainment!”

“I know, I know, Spock, look, relax okay?” He slid an arm up Spock’s back and massaged Spock’s neck lightly. Bones turned his stare toward Jim, an eyebrow raised. “Spock.” Now Jim was leaning toward Spock, his lips almost brushing Spock’s ear. “Hey. Would it make you feel better if Bones smoked?”

Spock had actually been pouting a little, but now his face took on a satisfied look. He nodded. “That would be acceptable.”

“You heard the man, Bones,” Jim said, handing the pipe to him. “Smoke up.”

Bones rolled his eyes and looked suspiciously at the pipe for a long moment, before finally raising it to his lips and inhaling deeply. He held it in for a long moment, until his face started turning a bit purple, then finally breathed out, a cloud of smoke enveloping the three of them.

Jim whistled appreciatively. “Geez, Bones, you don’t mess around, do you?” Bones took another hit right away, shaking his head in response.

"Do you know what this is doing to our lungs, Jim?" he wheezed, exhaling.

"Terrible things, I'm sure. Still," he said, taking the pipe from Bones and inhaling deeply, "you gotta admit, it does wonders for the pain," he finished, smoke seeping out among his words and drifting toward Spock.

"What pain?" Bones asked. Jim leaned over and punched him in the arm.

"That pain."

"Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a punching bag."

"Not a stoner either, I thought, but apparently I was wrong there."

Bones leapt forward and tackled Jim, who fell over into Spock's lap, laughing. The three of them thrashed around for a minute, before Bones disentangled himself and sat up, leaving Jim lolling in Spock's lap like a cat.

Jim reached a hand up to the corner of Spock’s mouth and gave it a little push. Spock pulled Jim’s hand away and smiled down at him, then looked at Bones and pointed out his smile to make sure the doctor would notice it. Bones’ mouth dropped open in shock.

“Oh my God, Spock, you almost look…normal.”

Jim grinned at him. “You’re the best, Spocky.”

"Spocky?" asked Bones, his look of surprise morphing into an idiotic grin.

"He lets me call him that sometimes," Jim said. He sat up and leaned forward, putting a finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone."

Bones started laughing, and found it really hard to stop, especially once he started thinking about Jim and Spock doing this every single night. What the hell did they even do? Bones thought it would take more than just the occasional Vulcan smile to keep Jim Kirk entertained for two weeks straight.  
“So, what, you guys really just sit in here smoking every night? Doesn’t that get boring?” he asked.

“Boring, no way!” Jim said enthusiastically. His head was back in Spock’s lap and he flailed his hands around as he recounted their various activities. “Sometimes Space Duck comes to visit,” he said, making his hand into a duck and quacking in Bones’ direction. “Sometimes Spock tells funny stories. Spock, you have to tell him the one about the plomeek soup, that one is hilarious!” Spock rolled his eyes and shook his head McCoy. Jim didn’t notice. “Oh, and then there’s this,” Jim said, sitting up and reaching a finger out to touch the tip of Spock’s ear. Spock was prepared for it this time, but that didn’t mean he didn’t shiver and whimper a little in response. “Just imagine the sensations, Bones. Vulcan sensitivity, magnified by pot. Must feel fucking awesome. C’mere, try it.”  
Bones scooted forward and reached to touch Spock’s ear. Spock twitched out from under his touch with a girlish shriek. Bones laughed, and kept laughing as Jim put a finger in his mouth, then ran the spit moistened tip around the shell of Spock’s ear. He laughed even harder as he watched Jim run his finger along Spock’s eyebrow, then down his nose and across his lips. He laughed as Spock opened his lips to take Jim’s finger into his mouth, at the glimpse of Spock’s tongue, at the way Spock wrapped a hand in Jim’ s hair to pull him closer. Every time Bones thought to stop laughing, he would picture Jim and Spock acting like this on the Bridge, or during some diplomatic dinner function, and it would send him into even greater hysterics, until Bones was literally rolling on the floor in tears. He continued laughing, even as Jim replaced his finger with his tongue, plunging it into Spock’s open mouth with a small moan.

"You guys, stop it, stop it, you're killing me here," Bones wheezed, his laughter trailing off to a nervous giggle.

They didn't stop, and in fact Jim put a hand behind Spock's neck and pulled him in, deepening the kiss.

Bones sat up. Suddenly, things had gotten a lot less funny. "Um, hello? I'm still here."

Jim waved a hand lazily at him, lips and tongue still very much occupied with Spock's mouth.  
Bones' stare had turned into a deep scowl. He stood up a bit woozily. "Whatever," he said petulantly. "I don't need you guys anyway! I can do whatever I want," he said, walking directly into the wall next to the door. "Ow." He put a hand on his head. "Door, open. Computer, door. Open, computer." Nothing happened. He stared dully at it. "Hellooooo....doooooor?" He felt dangerously close to laughing again. "Uh, Jim?" he asked, not turning around. He really didn't want to turn around.

He heard a small moan behind him as Jim pulled away from Spock. "Computer," Jim panted. "Let Bones out."

"That command is not recognized," the computer replied.

"Unlock door. Kirk override." The door slid open, and Bones exited in a haze of smoke.


	2. Contact High

_**Contact High (A Star Trek XI Fic) - Part 2**_  
Title: **Contact High**  
Author: [](http://therumjournals.livejournal.com/profile)[**therumjournals**](http://therumjournals.livejournal.com/)  
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot  
Word Count: 14,400  
Pairing: Kirk/Spock  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Drug use  
Description: Spock finds Jim Kirk in a cloud of smoke, and Jim discovers the entertainment value of a stoned Vulcan.  


Jim Kirk appeared in the doorway of the medical office, looking far too pleased with himself and with life in general.

“So?” he asked.

“What?”

“Did you have a good time last night?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“So, what do you think? Wanna do it again sometime?”

"Yeah, I don't think I'm ever going to be doing that again. Ever."

"Why not? I thought we had fun!"

"Oh, it was loads of fun. Until you and Spock started mouth-fucking and left me stoned and rolling around on the floor to entertain myself. I don't really feel the need to be the third wheel."

"Third wheel? Bones, it's not like that!"

"Yeah, it is. And don't even start about that 'sensations' crap."

"But Bones, it is about the sensations..."

"Uh huh. Listen, I understand the appeal of a tongue down the throat as much as the next man, but  
that was just ridiculous. Jesus, Jim, have you two been doing THAT every night for the past two weeks, too?”

“Nooo,” Jim said slowly. “Not every night.”

And they hadn’t. There was too much to explore, after all. After the ingenious introduction of the back massage, they’d moved on to feet, and hands, and chests, and then there were things like ice and feathers to try out, and one time Spock had almost gone into convulsions when Jim dripped a stripe of hot wax along the inside of his forearm. And sure, maybe they’d sought out each others’ mouths on more than one occasion, but it definitely didn’t happen every night.

“My God, Jim , please tell me you guys haven’t…done it?”

“Is that the medical term, doc?” Jim asked drily, but inside he was kind of freaking out, because to be honest, sex hadn’t really come into it at all. Not that anyone would believe him if he’d told them, but for the most part they’d been too content with their lazy explorations to think about sex, or lust. Jim figured that Spock was so overwhelmed with the feeling of Jim’s touch on his hand or ear that he didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Jim touched him in a more…sensitive area. The strange thing was, Jim felt the exact same way.

“For your information, no, we haven’t ‘done it’, and before you ask, no, he hasn’t touched my ‘thing’ either. Medical term.”

Actually, now that he thought about it, for someone who’d spent most of his adult life focused on one particular part of his anatomy, it was rather astonishing how little attention he’d paid to it over the past couple weeks. Which wasn’t to say that he hadn’t jacked off once or twice after Spock left his quarters, but touching himself was different than being touched, and anyway, it wasn’t like he could fall asleep if his cock was hard as hell. At least, that’s what he’d told himself as he thrust desperately into his hand, stroking hard and fast until he came to the memory of fingers and lips on his skin.

***

When Spock showed up at his quarters that night, he appeared uneasy, looking around as he stepped into the room. “Should I expect the doctor to be joining us again tonight, Jim?”

“No, Spock, I think we scared Bones off for good.”

Spock’s expression changed slightly as he took a seat and Jim was shocked to recognize that Spock looked rather… smug.

“Oh my God, you devious bastard,” Jim exclaimed, poking Spock in the shoulder. “You did that on purpose! You made out with me just to freak Bones out!”

Spock looked down at Jim’s finger with a raised eyebrow. “Well…not just to freak Bones out,” he intoned, and the corner of his mouth twitched up again.

Jim slumped back, shaking his head, still in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.”

“Jim?”

“What?”

“Was it your intention to smoke tonight?”

“Oh shit, yeah, I almost forgot. Huh. Weird.” He opened the cabinet and got the pipe ready, lit up, and sucked in deeply. Spock’s eyes flicked involuntarily to Jim’s mouth and remained there as Jim opened his eyes. Jim pulled the pipe away and formed an “O” with his mouth, blowing out a series of perfectly formed smoke rings. Spock’s eyes widened in surprise and he forgot to even breathe in the smoke. Jim laughed and took another puff, this time exhaling purposefully in Spock’s direction. He lifted the pipe to his mouth again and had started to inhale when he felt soft lips brush against the skin under his ear. He breathed in sharply at the sensation, choked, and coughed violently for a minute. When he had recovered, he leaned back and, not looking at Spock, said “Jesus, Spock, you know you could kill a man with moves like that.”

Spock leaned toward him again, reaching forward to pull the pipe out of his hand and set it on the floor as he placed his lips back against Jim’s neck. Jim felt warm breath against his ear as Spock whispered, “I thought you might want to know how it feels.” Before Jim could respond, Spock was running his tongue along the shell of Jim’s ear and Jim was writhing in pleasure as the touch sent sparks through his body. He said nothing, tried to remember to keep breathing as Spock took the edge of Jim’s ear lightly between his teeth, nipping, kissing, then pulling Jim’s earlobe in between velvet lips.

Jim had his eyes closed and was so focused on what Spock was doing to his ear that he had barely even noticed that he was hard and that he’d moved his hand to press against his groin, trying to keep his erection at bay. The pressure of his hand on his cock and the friction against the fabric of his pants distracted him momentarily from Spock’s ministrations and he struggled to decide which to focus on. Then Spock’s lips tugged insistently on his earlobe and his hips bucked involuntarily, pushing his straining cock against his hand again. Suddenly, Jim was overcome with the feeling that he could not possibly wait another second to touch himself, and he groped at the fly of his pants as Spock’s lips traced a path down his neck. He shoved his pants and boxers down, wrapping a hand around himself as he tilted his head back to give Spock better access.

Spock felt Jim’s body jerk as he stroked himself and pulled back, his eyes widening with shock as he saw what Jim was doing. “I’m sorry, Spock,” Jim panted as he pushed into his fist, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t…it just felt so good…sorry…” He felt Spock’s eyes on him but he couldn’t stop, not now, not when it felt like fire where Spock’s lips had touched him and like lava pooling in his groin. Without missing a stroke, he gestured with his head toward the bulge in Spock’s pants.

“You can do it, too, Spock, come on. Pot makes it feel so fucking amazing.” He had a rhythm going now, and his breath hitching, interspersed by grunts of pleasure. The sounds alone had Spock reaching for his zipper, any apprehension he might have felt replaced by blinding need. Jim’s head was tipped back, his eyes closed, as Spock felt the cool air hit his throbbing cock, that feeling alone nearly taking his breath away. He reached tentatively to touch himself but another glance at Jim’s fist flying over his dick in fast strokes made Spock forget any ideas he’d had about easing into it and he gripped himself hard and rough. Jim heard Spock moving beside him and opened his eyes, glancing quickly down at Spock’s hand, and it was too much and then he was coming, hitching his t-shirt up to let the thick stream splash across his stomach. As he caught his breath, he looked over to see Spock arching his back, panting, beads of sweat on his brow. Jim reached over to lift the hem of Spock’s shirt, and at the feel of Jim’s fingers against his stomach, Spock moaned and climaxed with a shudder that shook his whole body. They slumped back against the pillows, breathing hard, their shoulders just touching. Spock fought to harness his emotions and immediately regretted it, as shame flooded through him. Without looking at Jim, he pushed his shirt down, zipped up his pants, and stood to leave. Behind him, he heard Jim’s voice, low and rough and Spock could tell that he was smiling as he said, “Felt awesome, didn’t it?” Spock nodded once, without looking back, and left.

***

When the door slid open the next night, Jim was standing right there. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled nervously. “Thought you might not show tonight,” he said lightly.

Spock had an answer prepared. “If you would prefer that I leave-“

“No, no, Spock, get your ass in here,” Jim replied, grinning and grabbing Spock by the arm to pull him into the room. Jim wasted no time lighting up and for a few minutes it seemed like they might revert back to their previous pattern of comfortable silence interspersed with funny stories. But then Jim took a long hit off the pipe, sucking deep, his cheeks hollowing with the effort and Spock’s breath hitched as he stared at Jim’s mouth. Jim heard Spock’s breath catch and glanced at him through lowered eyelashes, and then Spock was reaching over, pulling the pipe out of his fingers and pressing their mouths together and fumbling at the zipper of his own pants. Jim pushed Spock’s hand aside and undid the zipper himself, breaking the kiss and leaning down to run his tongue across the hot skin of Spock’s pelvis. He knew what Spock wanted and he didn’t make him wait, wrapping his lips around the head of Spock’s rigid cock and sucking, slowly taking him deep into his mouth. He felt a sharp pain as Spock gripped his hair tightly, but he only sucked harder in response. He could feel Spock’s body tensing, and he pulled away, sitting up to kiss Spock deeply and sloppily, Spock’s hand still fisted in his hair.

Then he was straddling Spock, his hands in Spock’s hair and on his neck, and he whispered “God, Spock, I want to make you come, I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard you won’t even know your own name.” Spock responded by gripping Jim’s shoulder and maneuvering his head back down into his lap, where Jim was more than happy to stay. Jim worked him over with long, wide swipes of his tongue, licking up the length of his cock and swirling around the tip, slurping and moaning obscenely as he took Spock back into his mouth. Spock was trying hard not to thrust into Jim’s mouth, but it didn’t matter, because Jim was sliding his lips up and down Spock’s shaft, gripping the base with one hand and twisting slightly, and then he was swallowing, and Spock was coming in his mouth, gasping as he watched Jim drink him in.

  
Jim lay on the floor looking up at Spock as he prepared to return to his quarters.

“Spock,” he said, still panting slightly.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock stood over him, an eyebrow raised.

“I think we’ve just opened the door to a whole new realm of sensations to explore. Ya know…in the name of scientific research and all that.”

Spock looked down at him. “I would be interested in attempting to repeat the results of this evening’s experiment.”

“You have a dirty mind, Spock,” Jim called to him as he stepped out the door. “I wholeheartedly approve.”

  
* * * * *

  
Jim had never let his nightly indulgences affect him on the job and he wasn’t about to start. That didn’t necessarily mean he was looking forward to telling Spock that he had to pull a double shift and cancel their evening activities. Apparently his apprehension had been well-founded, as he was now observing Spock react with subtle panic to the idea of spending a night without – well, either him or the pot, Jim wasn’t quite sure which.

“I could inquire as to whether any other officers would be willing to oversee Ensign Ling’s command training.”

“What are you saying, Spock, you think someone else would do a better job than me?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t you think Ensign Ling should have the best training available? For the good of the ship?”

“I do.”

“Which is why I have to be on the Bridge tonight, Spock. I know you know this, and I think you’re just being difficult.”

He had to imagine Spock’s pout.

“Would it not be more logical to oversee her training next week, when we are orbiting Philius?”

“No, Spock, it would not be more logical, unless you think the logical time to implement command training is in the midst of potentially hostile trade negotiations. You’re really grasping at straws here, Spock, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were, I don’t know, addicted.”

Now he imagined Spock scowling.

“I mean, I’m flattered Spock. I had no idea you were so desperate to spend time with me.”

Something flashed across Spock’s eyes, but he quickly reined it in and responded, in a clipped tone, “I believe I shall survive the experience.”

“Good. I am sorry Spock,” he said, clapping Spock on the shoulder. And he was. “But, you know, we have been doing this for, like, three weeks straight. Maybe we could both use a little break?”

Jim had no idea what expression to imagine as Spock simply replied “Indeed.”

***

Ensign Ling’s training was going well. They’d run a few simulations and in the slow, casual atmosphere of the night shift, Ling’s eager questions had led the Bridge crew into a lively discussion of the practicality of Starfleet regulations for safe approach distances to various anomalies. Ensign Ling was laughing at Kirk’s impression of Spock being torn between following regulations and his desire for scientific inquiry. “It’s actually kind of adorable, the way he pretends to be so immersed in taking readings. See, that way he can avoid noticing that Chekov’s course coordinates have us blatantly violating Starfleet regulations.”

“Yeah, by like two kilometers,” laughed Ling, then she caught herself and looked panicked at the idea of making fun of Commander Spock.

Kirk just laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Exactly. Speaking of which, have you received Commander Spock’s report on the known irregularities in this sector? I think he’d planned to submit it by 2100.”

“There’s nothing in the network, Captain.”

“Huh. Weird. Let’s bother him about it.” He pressed the comm button on the arm of his chair.

“Captain Kirk to Commander Spock.” There was no response. “Kirk to Spock, come in Spock.” Still no response. Kirk stared at the comm for a moment, then glanced at Uhura, who shrugged her shoulders. “Computer, report location of Commander Spock.”

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

“What the hell?”

“Maybe he is asleep, sir,” suggested Chekov.

“No way, he never goes to sleep this early,” Jim responded, then hoped no one thought to ask him how he would know that. “Computer, report Commander Spock’s vital signs,” he said, and the atmosphere on the Bridge suddenly felt all too serious.

“Accelerated heart rate, irregular breathing, body temperature above Vulcan norm…”

“That’s enough. Bridge to sickbay, Bones, get over to Spock’s quarters right now, I’ll meet you there.” Jim was out of his chair and in the turbolift before Bones had even responded that he was on his way.

Jim got there first, overrode the locked door and stepped into Spock’s quarters. He was barely inside the room when he smelled the familiar scent of pot smoke and saw the pipe – his pipe – on the bedside table. “Oh no, oh shit,” he started, continuing a stream of worried profanity as he frantically opened the bathroom door. Spock lay on the floor, unconscious, one arm draped around the base of the toilet. Jim knelt down, saying “Jesus Spock, wake up, come on.” He slapped him lightly on the cheek, which was cool and clammy to the touch. He was breathing, shallowly, but breathing, and Jim had just begun to wonder where the hell Bones was when the doctor ran in and dropped down beside him.

“Jesus Jim, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know Bones, oh my God,” Jim ran his hands through his hair and his face went hot as the thought hit him that this was his fault. “He must have gotten into my quarters somehow, I think he smoked some weed, shit Bones, he must have really smoked it, he never tried that before, we didn’t know what it would do to him.” Bones was focused on Spock, but Jim knew he would be facing a profanity-laced lecture from his CMO before the night was over. “Bones, is he okay, is he gonna be okay?” He scooted closer but Bones elbowed him out of the way.

“Get back, Jim, like you haven’t done enough already. He’s breathing. We need to get him to sickbay to see if we can get this shit out of his system before it gets worse.”

“Worse?!”

“I don’t know Jim, I haven’t exactly studied the effects of pot on Vulcan physiology.” He glared at Jim. “I thought you were the expert in that particular research area.”

Jim couldn’t even wipe the concern off his face long enough to scowl at him, so Bones told him to give him a hand and together they lifted Spock up and carried him to sickbay.

They set him on a biobed and Bones slipped an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Bones moved around the room opening drawers and loading up hyposprays. Jim flinched when he saw Bones coming toward him with a handful of the hypos, but Bones pushed past him and administered the drugs to Spock one after another.

He stood up. “That should help.” They watched Spock silently for a moment, then Bones leaned over him, gripping one of his shoulders. “Come on Spock, wake up,” he muttered, and Jim wondered exactly how worried Bones was that he wouldn’t.

Then Spock’s eyes fluttered open weakly and he coughed and struggled to sit up. Bones yanked the oxygen mask off of his face just in time, as Spock leaned over the side of the bed, his body wracked with dry heaves. When he lay back, his face was covered in sweat and he looked even paler than usual. Jim leaned over him and touched a hand to his cheek, forcing Spock to look into his worried eyes. “Spock, thank God, you’re okay, Spock, it’s okay, Jesus, what the hell were you thinking, you idiot, what the fuck.” He was babbling, stroking Spock’s cheek, his forehead, running a hand through Spock’s hair and then bringing it up to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Spock tried to speak but Jim held a finger to his lips. “It’s okay Spock, don’t talk, you don’t have to talk, but later you’re going to tell me what the fuck you were thinking, Spock, you had no idea what would happen, why didn’t you just ask me.” He paused again and Bones took the opportunity to pull him away from Spock’s side.

“Alright Jim, Jesus, give him a rest. Look, why don’t you take a rest, I’ll keep an eye on him, okay? Go get some air or something, and I will deal with you later.”

Jim really, really didn’t want to leave, but he also was quite frankly terrified of Bones right now, so he decided to heed the doctor’s suggestion and go get some air. Getting some air, in this case, meant pacing the Observation Deck, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, wondering how they had gotten to this point. God, it had all started so innocently. So he wanted to smoke before he went to sleep, big fucking deal. Then Spock had to show up, and then he was all…curious, and then he was smiling, and then there were the sensations and then…then Jim didn’t even know. At some point he’d stopped giving a fuck about the pot and all he cared about was Spock showing up. But apparently Spock hadn’t felt the same way, since now Spock couldn’t go one fucking night without smoking, whether Jim was there or not. Was he really so desperate that he was ransacking Jim’s room while Jim was on the Bridge doing his fucking job? Jim paced the length of the Deck, his mind swinging wildly between giddy relief and uneasy fear and the terrifying feeling that this was out of his control and that he wouldn’t be able to bring Spock back from whatever mental hell he was up against right now. At some point in the night, his legs gave out underneath him and he found himself propped against the window, stars sliding past behind him as he sobbed quietly into his hands.

When he woke up, he was slumped on the floor, his back still pressed to the observation window. Bones was looking at him from across the room. “Hell if you think I’m going over there to help you up,” he said gruffly, but his voice was gentler as he added, “Spock’s stable and rested now. I think you should go see him.”

They walked down the corridor together. “Did you ask him anything?” he asked Bones.

“Good try, buddy, but I’m leaving that little walk in the park up to you.”

Jim rubbed his eyes. “Fuck Bones, what am I supposed to say to him?”

“I don’t know, Jim,” Bones said, sounding tired, “but maybe you can save the questions and the lecture for later. Not too much later, mind you. Right now, I think he just needs to know you’re there for him.” Bones put a hand on Jim’s arm, stopping them in the middle of the hall. His expression was serious. “Jim. You are there for him, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am, God, yeah, of course. But he knows that! At least, I thought he did….”

Bones held Jim’s gaze for a moment before he continued. “Jim, listen, I want you to know, I’m here for you, too, okay? For both of you. I have resources, whatever you need, support, counseling, methods to cure addiction…”

“Bones, it’s not.-“

“Jim,” Bones gripped his arm tightly. “Listen to me. Just in case, okay? Just…don’t be scared to  
ask.”

Jim nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Back in sickbay, Jim took Spock’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. He caught Spock’s gaze and winced at the sadness he saw there. “Spock. I’m here, okay?”

“I am sorry, Jim.”

“Shh, Spock, shh.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Spock’s temple. “Don’t worry about that right now. You need to rest, okay, and I’m gonna stay right here with you.”

“Jim, I do not think I can sleep without…I do not think I can sleep here.”

“Okay. Okay, hold on, let me go ask Bones something.” He stood to leave but Spock squeezed his hand.

“Stay with me.”

“Okay. HEY BONES!” he yelled across sickbay. Bones stepped out of his office frowning and Jim gave an apologetic shrug. “Bones, do you think maybe I can take Spock back to my quarters? Let him sleep there tonight? I’ll make sure he comes back here in the morning so you can check him out.”

Bones sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but then nodded begrudgingly. “Fine. But I’m taking him there with you, he’s still very weak.” Jim helped Spock sit up and Bones put an arm around his other side for support as they walked to the captain’s quarters. As Jim helped Spock into the bed, Bones went straight for the bedside cabinet, opening it and pulling out a wooden box and a lighter. Jim’s eyes widened as he realized what Bones was doing. “Don’t say another word, Jim, I swear to God. I’ll hold on to this for you, for now, and we can talk about it later.” Jim nodded.

Bones stopped again at the door. “I’m serious Jim, I want Spock back in sickbay as soon as he wakes up. Make sure he drinks water, okay? I’ve gotten him rehydrated but it will still help. If he wants to eat something, give him some crackers, that’s it.”

“Okay, okay, Bones, I got it.”

“Alright. Goodnight Jim.”

“Night. And Bones? Thanks.”

Bones nodded as the door slid shut behind him.

Jim sat down on the bed next to Spock. His clothes were damp with sweat and he looked miserable. Jim pulled Spock’s shirt off, then his own, and rummaged in a drawer, pulling out two comfy cotton hoodies. Spock sat up and let Jim pull the sweatshirt over him, then Jim did the same with a pair of well-worn pajama pants. He slid under the covers next to Spock and propped himself up on an elbow, wrapping his other arm around Spock’s torso.

“Spock?” he whispered. “You still with me?”

“I am awake.”

“How do you feel?”

A beat passed before Spock said quietly, “Ashamed.”

Jim tightened his grip on Spock’s waist. “How does your body feel?”

Spock turned toward him in the darkness. “Comfortable.”

Jim smiled and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay.” Jim lay down all the way, and nestled in beside Spock, his forehead pressed against Spock’s  
temple, his leg intertwined with Spock’s beneath the covers. He closed his eyes.

“I was scared.”

Jim opened his eyes, but didn’t move, waiting for Spock to continue.

“I thought I would not be able to sleep, I thought…I thought the nightmares would return.”

“Nightmares?”

“Before….I would have nightmares. About Vulcan, my mother, Nero. They would begin as soon as I closed my eyes. My body tried to rest, but my mind was…troubled. I did not want to go to sleep, so I could not.”

Jim shut his eyes, his heart hurting from the pain in Spock’s voice.

“Then…I could sleep, thanks to the pot. I could sleep and there were no more nightmares and my thoughts were stilled.” Spock shifted in the bed, turning onto his side, burying his face in Jim’s neck. “I was scared to go to sleep tonight. I thought it was the only way… I do not want the nightmares to return, Jim.”

“I know, Spock,” Jim whispered, rubbing small circles against Spock’s back, trying to ease the tension that he could feel there. “Just try to rest, okay? Close your eyes. I’ll be here, I’ll fight off Nero for you.” Jim felt a tear slide down his cheek and found himself desperately hoping that he would be enough.

  
Jim woke up once in the middle of the night to find that neither of them had shifted in their sleep. He pried himself out of Spock’s arms and slid out of bed to get a glass of water. When he returned to the bed, Spock hadn’t moved, but Jim could see that his eyes were open now, watching him silently. Jim coaxed him into a sitting position to take a drink, then lay back down beside him. They held each other again without a thought, their bodies fitting together easily, a comforting warmth that Jim suddenly couldn’t imagine living without.

“No nightmares, Spock?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Jim placed a soft kiss on his cheek, a chaste goodnight kiss, or at least that’s what he had intended. But Spock put a hand on his cheek and kissed him on the lips, once, then again, then pressed his tongue hungrily against Jim’s lips.

Jim pressed lightly against Spock’s chest. “Spock, stop. You need to sleep.”

“I wish to kiss you.”

Jim chuckled. “Sheesh, Spock, you sound like you’re still high. Why don’t you go back to sleep and dream about kissing me, okay? At least one of us has to captain this ship tomorrow.”

Spock stilled, then turned over so his back was to Jim. Jim frowned, then shrugged, and pressed up against him anyway, sliding an arm around his waist. He thought maybe he should have told Spock that there could be plenty of time for kissing, later, but Spock was already asleep.

***

In the morning, Spock insisted on changing into his uniform before they walked down to sickbay. Spock sat stiffly on a biobed as McCoy checked him over with a tricorder. Bones snapped the tricorder shut and declared that Spock’s vital signs were improved and that, as far as he could tell, there would be no lingering physical effects. Bones crossed his arms and glared at Spock. “Now look, Spock. I don’t even know where to start with you on this…”

“There is no need to lecture me, Doctor,” Spock said quietly.

“Is that so? Well that’d better be because you’re hearing my lecture in your head right now, Spock, and I hope you listen to me. And I think maybe you could use another day of rest before you return to the Bridge.”

“Nor is there any need to punish me.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to take your word on that, Spock.”

“Doctor McCoy. Please. I believe it would be…most beneficial…for me to return to my duties.”

Bones looked at Jim, who shrugged. Bones shook his head, sighed, and said, “Fine.” He gave Jim a pointed look that left no doubt as to who he really considered responsible for Spock’s continued well-being.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Jim nodded at Bones and followed Spock out the door.

***

Jim followed Spock off the Bridge onto the turbo lift. Spock’s face was void of emotion as he looked at Jim.

“Spock. Come to my quarters tonight.”

Spock looked away and clasped his hands behind his back. “I was under the impression that Dr. McCoy had confiscated-“

“Yeah, he confiscated my stash,” Jim interrupted. “I just thought, maybe, we could...talk, or something. Just hang out, you know?”

Spock glanced down at Jim’s hand, which was gripping him firmly by the elbow. Jim relaxed his grip a little, but didn’t let go.

“Jim… What I told you last night… I did not mean to make you feel obligated to…babysit me.” It was a term he’d heard Bones use a number of times, usually in reference to his duties regarding Jim’s safety.

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Spock, that’s not what I’m talking about. If you don’t want to come over, fine. Just keep in mind that maybe you’re not the only one who…doesn’t want to be alone.” His voice faltered into the silence, and he let go of Spock’s arm.

As the door to the turbolift opened, Spock nodded, and as he stepped out he responded, “I will see you at the usual hour.” Jim let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as the door slid shut.

***

For a moment, Spock thought that maybe he had entered the wrong quarters. The lights were at 100% and the blankets and pillows were on the bed, and Spock almost turned around before he noticed Jim watching him from his seat at the desk. Jim set down his PADD and stood up, nodding at Spock and not really knowing what to do with his hands, or for that matter what to say or where to look. After a long minute, Jim coughed and asked Spock if maybe he’d like to play a game of chess. Spock nodded and took a seat as Jim set up the chessboard on his desk. Ten minutes in, Jim realized that he had lost all pretense of strategy, his focus slipping from the board, his eyes flicking to Spock’s hands and jaw and shoulder. Spock was concentrating, summoning all of his willpower to avoid glancing toward the cabinet by the bed or at the unrumpled blankets tucked securely around the mattress. They stared blankly at the board, lost in their own minds. Jim’s heart was in his throat as he reached across to take hold of Spock’s hand, pressing his thumb into Spock’s palm. He kept his eyes on the board and drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to play chess,” he said, his voice choked.

“I must admit that the game is not holding my full attention,” Spock said softly.

Jim stood up, pulling Spock up with him, and moved into Spock’s space, reaching for him. Spock took a step back.

“This…isn’t what you want?” Jim asked. Spock’s eyes shot to the cabinet by the bed. Jim squinted in anger, and disbelief. “Fuck the weed, Spock, that’s not what this is about anymore.”

“I do not know,” Spock murmured.

“Well, I know,” said Jim, setting a tentative hand on Spock’s shoulder. “You wanted to kiss me last night, Spock.”

“You said yourself, that was a result of the lingering effects of the drug in my system.”

“I did not say that.”

“You implied.”

“Well, tell me then. Was it? Was that all that any of this ever was?”

“Jim, you never indicated-“

“Spock, we’re not talking about me. You’re not on drugs right now. Ask yourself – do you want to kiss me? And remember – Vulcans don’t lie.”

“It will not feel the same.”

“Oh yeah?” Jim grabbed Spock, one hand fisted in his hair, the other curled around the side of his neck and he pressed his tongue against Spock’s ear, licking relentlessly, sloppily, leaving a damp trail from the lobe to the tip and back again. Spock shook and gasped and tried to pull away, but Jim had a firm hold on him and wasn’t ready to let him go. He pressed a trail of kisses along Spock’s jaw and swiped his tongue across Spock’s closed lips, again and again until he felt Spock’s resistance decrease by a fraction. Then he plunged his tongue into Spock’s mouth, wanting to show Spock what it could be like and at the same time wanting to take as much as he could, just in case this was the last time. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust and anticipation.

“So. Did it feel the same?”

“No.”

Jim felt his heart sink. “Right. Well then…” He moved to pull away but Spock was gripping him firmly by the forearms.

“Jim. It felt better.”

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes widened with understanding and he broke into a smile.

He slid his arms around Spock, who was still slightly stunned. “You look a little surprised, Spock. Did you really think this was all about the weed?”

“I…yes. Until this moment.”

“What about last night, Spock? That didn’t offer some kind of clue as to how I feel about you?”

“I thought you did not want me to spend the night alone.”

“You’re damn right I didn’t want you to spend the night alone. I wanted you to spend it with me, in my bed, wrapped in my arms.” Jim felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he confessed to Spock what he had only just realized himself. “I think I want to spend every night like that.” He pressed his lips against Spock’s neck. “Spock. I promise you, you will never have to spend another night alone.”

He felt Spock relax into him. “That would be satisfactory.”

***

Jim felt butterflies in his stomach, and he fought to suppress a smile as Spock stepped onto the Bridge. It was a strange and heady feeling, how after all the time that they’d spent together over the past month, after all the things they’d done together, everything could still seem so new. He could finally allow himself to think about Spock in the light of day and, well, truth be told, he’d probably been spending a little too much time thinking about Spock in the light of day.

“Captain, I am detecting an atmospheric disturbance in the planet’s southern hemisphere. Shall I conduct a scan?”

“That sounds great, Spocky.”

“Captain, despite the excessive level of casual communication that is encouraged aboard this ship, I must ask that you refrain from addressing me as ‘Spocky’.”

“Duly noted, Commander. Carry on.”

Okay, so maybe sometimes he let his giddiness seep out a little bit, but really, he couldn’t help it. It had been less than a week since Bones confiscated his weed, and they’d spent that time enthusiastically discovering that yes, in fact, everything still felt pretty damn good without it. The sex was great, of course, the kissing incredible as always, but what really made Jim feel amazing, what really made him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, were those moments right before they fell asleep. Lying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, comfortable and warm and easy, Jim could feel his excess energy drain away as he held Spock close, anchored, as they drifted off into dreamless sleep.

***

“Jim, I have done something illogical.”

“Yeah, I’d say you’ve done kind of a shitload of illogical stuff over the past month.”

“Yes, but what I am referring to represents a…particularly blatant disregard for logic.”

“Particularly blatant, eh?” Jim asked, tracing patterns across Spock’s bare chest. “Alright. What have you done that’s sooo illogical?”

Spock looked at him. “I have fallen in love with my captain.”

Jim’s breath caught in his throat and his hand stilled, palm flat on Spock’s chest. When he looked up at Spock, his eyes were damp. His voice was a ragged whisper. “Spock….I’ve wanted to tell you…”

“Jim,” Spock stopped him, pulled him close. “You did tell me.”

Jim smiled but there was an uncertainty to it, a desperation. “You don’t know, Spock. You can’t possibly know how much I love you.”

“I can know, Jim, if you would like to show me,” Spock said, sliding a hand up to Jim’s cheek.

Jim pressed a kiss into his palm and nodded. “I want you to see.”

Spock placed his fingers deliberately on Jim’s face. Jim closed his eyes as he heard Spock murmur the words, “Our minds, one and together.”

There was something he wanted to tell Spock, and he pushed the thought forward so it was the first thing Spock saw in his mind, a blazing sign that said, “You are better than any drug.”

And he felt, echoing back across Spock’s thoughts, the answer, “You are all that I will ever need.”

***

Epilogue

Spock stared longingly at a potted plant on Jim’s desk, a gift from Sulu.

“I know, Spock. I’m gonna miss it, too, a little.”

“Why will you miss it, Jim?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll miss knowing what you’re thinking. I already miss seeing you smile, and pout. You’re so damn cute when you smile.”

“I shall endeavor to smile for you, Jim. But Jim..”

“Yes?”

“Only for you.”

Jim grinned. “Exactly the way I want it,” he said, wrapping his arms around Spock and setting his chin on Spock’s shoulder. “So…are we gonna do this?”

“Affirmative.”

Jim leaned around Spock to hit the comm on the desk. “Okay, Bones. We’re ready.”

Bones sounded cheerful on the other end. “Great. Meet you there.”

Five minutes later, they found Bones standing at the airlock door, a genuine grin on his face.

“Bones, have I ever told you that you get way too much enjoyment out of doing this? Heaven forbid Keenser should wander by when you’re feeling punchy.”

“Shut up.”

Through the window they could see a small pile of innocent-looking greenery lying on the floor of the airlock. “Any last words?” Bones asked.

Jim said nothing, just gave Spock’s hand a small squeeze and took a deep breath. “Alright, Bones. Space it!”

Bones hit the controls and the outer door slid open. And just like that, the weed was gone, pulled into the darkness and out of their lives, leaving behind only memories and Spock’s fingers tangled in Jim’s.

 **The End**


End file.
